tfln open post

[byanyname]

***

either leave a message (or set of muses) for one of my assholes, or request a message from one of them. choose messages from the classic source, from your own skull, or whatever you may please.

Comments

[jondrette]

If monsieur marius asked me to, I would tredge through all of Paris in the snow.

[She'd do anything he asked, that's the sad fact. Montparnasse, however, can deal with it on his own.]

[fitofgrandair]

[Of course she would. He can't say he doesn't know the feeling.]

There IS that trouble with dreaming on one dick alone. It makes we foolish people do exceptionally foolish things.

Well. We must hope Marius will keep his meager wits and resist sending a lady into the cold.

[jondrette]

See, that is why I have Montparnasse.

He has more wits than my father, so I shall stay dry and warm where he is concerned. Though it is not the wet I mind.

[fitofgrandair]

Let it never be said you aren't a clever girl. Shall I ask - with bated breath - what it is you do mind? Or shall I guess?

'Plaisir d'amour' sung with all the grace of an untuned shatter of glass. A promising bottle holding no more than a single lonely drop of gin. The word 'swaddling.' Tell me, am I close?

[jondrette]

Very clever.

The cold. The way my feet sting against the pavement.

[fitofgrandair]

Clever girl, clever boy, we make an exquisite - and exquisitely mangy - pair.

I'd expect your feet would go numb after a while.

Really, though, the most recommendable tactic - cited by physicians, metaphysicians, and moralists everywhere - would be to stay off snow-brushed streets. Even if a Marius should call.

[jondrette]

So we do.

They do. But it stings when the feeling returns and the bottoms are cut to ribbons.

I do not have the luxury.

[fitofgrandair]

A ray of sunshine, as always. The world would be be an intolerable place indeed if all persons were so insufferably cheery as you.

That aside, I offer for the sake of your feet a drink or three when you've been too long in the cold. Day or night, streets snow-dusted or ice-bitten, pound on my door and I'll answer your call. Or I may, should I be in and conscious and not too attached to a warm sofa.

[jondrette]

or three! I shall take you up on it, for you offer drink, and perhaps there will be food to be found as well, and a fire. In fact, I shall take your warm sofa.

Or perhaps I will just pick the lock.

[fitofgrandair]

I may be persuaded to part with the sofa for a time - even to spend hours warming it in advance of your arrival - so long as you request the sofa's kind permission before sitting, reclining, or otherwise perching on its surface. You must forgive the request; my sofa is a finicky one, and takes slights to heart.

As for the rest, let the lock-picker beware: should you come upon me unawares, I can't promise to be what is called decent or even remotely presentable.

[jondrette]

of course. I shall be nothing but polite to your dear sofa.

yours would not be the first i've seen. I care not for what state you are in.

[fitofgrandair]

My dear sofa will appreciate your consideration.

You say so now, but I warn you: hideous as my face may be, the rest of this body called mine is more hopeless still. I'm sure it's driven plenty of my would-be companions back through the church to the saving arms of their dear lord god, father almighty, etc. etc.

[jondrette]

you have not seen my body. it is worse. I have been told I look like a boy.

But even still, I have fucked uglier men than you.